Disclaimer: I don't own JoA.

I've been having some offline time recently (mainly due to my dad seeing the amount of time I spend on msn as being literally on par to a heroin addiction and moaning about it all the time) but I have exams tomorrow so I decided some serious revision delaying was in order (i.e. updating something). I apologise that it's been so long and that this chappie is kind-of off. It's been incredibly rushed.

In response to one of the reviews, I've never actually seen napoleon dynamite, so that's odd :s.

oOo

Just as the bell rang for History, Grace had announced she was taking a self-instigated field trip. After further investigation from Joan, this turned out to be Coffee and a cinnamon Danish at a near by coffee shop. Seeing the perfect opportunity to talk to Grace alone, Joan invited herself along.

'I kinda have a favour to ask you.' Joan stared intently at the floor, her crimson reflection staring back at her from the shine of the floor.

Grace appeared to consider this for a second before replying. 'No.'

'No?' Joan fought the urge to bang her head against a near by wall.

'I don't do favours. Especially not the kind Friedman asks for on a regular basis,' pure disgust flashed behind her eyes before she shook her head, 'But that's besides the point.'

Disturbed and yet strangely amused, Joan choked back a laugh. 'You won't even let me try and explain? Please?' Joan asked, regaining her composure.

'Why, what do you want? You sound suspicious.'

'Come on, I'll explain on the way.'

She pushed the guilt aside as they exited the building. After all, she was doing God's work. Surely allowances could be made as far as breaking a few rules went. As she followed Grace to the Coffee shop she tried to explain her favour.

oOo

Setting her plate and mug down on the tiny wooden table, Grace slid into the chair opposite Joan. Somewhat absently, she dipped her finger into the froth on her coffee and licked it off in one long sweep of her tongue before turning her attention to Joan. 'So let me get this strait Girardi, you're offering me your ipod and a promise to come to all my anarchist rallies for the next year, if I'll join a stupid pageant?'

'And forty-two dollars and twenty-seven cents,' Joan replied as she finished counting out her change.

'Bribery. How depraved of you.' Grace poured sugar into her coffee and then aimed the scrunched up wrapper at the trash. It missed. 'Damn. One second.' Grace went to pick the wrapper up and put it in the trash.

'Depraved but not beneath you, I'm hoping.' Joan mumbled as Grace returned to her seat.

'What makes you think I'll go for it, Girardi?'

'Erm, you really want an ipod? You want to help me out? Err…'

'Why do you care?' Grace demanded suddenly, tone aggressive as she began to uncurl her Danish into a long strip.

'I can't explain it, okay! Please Grace, just do this one little thing for me? Please, please, please?'

'Girardi, do you hear voices again?'

'That's irrelevant.'

'Is that a yes?'

'No Grace.'

'Okaaay.'

'Please?'

'No way in hell.'

'Oh' Her face faltered for a second. 'Wait, you could make like, a documentary! Yeah. It could be a political statement, cutting edge,'

'Girardi, you're babbling.'

'Think about it, you could be the one to show the world the true nature of Summer Stratford!'

'Tempting as that may be Joan, it still involves me joining a freakin beauty pageant! You do it.'

'It has to be you! Listen, if you get out in the first round, so be it. Just join, please?'

'And I get to make the documentary?'

Joan nodded vigorously.

'And I still get the ipod, even when I get out in the first 20 seconds?'

'IF you get out, but yes.'

'I'm not wearing a dress, or make up.'

'What? Is that a yes?' Joan sounded amazed.

'Maybe.'

'No, seriously, yes?'

'Yes. But never mind your voices, I'm concerned for my own mental health considering I just agreed to join a beauty pageant.'

'Yay! Not your mental health, obviously. The fact that you said yes. And I DO NOT hear voices.'

'Sure Girardi, sure. Did they tell you to say that?'

'Just shut up Grace.'

'The voices are aggressive. Interesting… Oh, where do I sigh up?'

'I err, might have done it for you already.'

'Girardi, I am going to kill you.'

'The voices might have something to say about that.'

'So you admit it! There are voices.'

'Eat your Danish.'

'Fine.'

oOo

TBC